


after dark

by dontknowjack



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Blind Character, Blind Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Blindness, Clay | Dream Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), POV Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Soft Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Warden Hybrid Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), how do i even tag this lmao, i guess-, idk what this is, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:07:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29393835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontknowjack/pseuds/dontknowjack
Summary: He was always born different. That, he always knew, always felt somewhere in his bones.A child wandering in the midst of wonders, unharmed and untouched, between moss-covered caves with berries that dangled from the ceiling to steep ravines filled to the brim with water. He'd move on from place to place, stumbling across damp rock looking for... what, he was not sure, but he knew enough to keep going, to keep to the caves to continue to survive.And even though he moved places so often, even though he traversed the caves daily, he knew that this was home. The familiar dripping of water onto smooth rock and alternating rivers of water and fire that he skipped with ease, the pockets of strange smooth stone that tinkled under his feet and the long winding rivers in the deepest of caves.This was home, and this was enough.Or; Dream is a Warden hybrid, born to protect his home.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) & Everyone, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 452





	1. part i. under

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :cries: i hate this sm i wrote most of it at 3am in the morning over the course of three days and then proceeded to forget about it for a two weeks lmao. and then i proceeded to stick a bunch of barely comprehensible ideas in,, why did i ever think this was a good idea sgskjfjj  
> this is my first,, larger project and i'm just. stares. gulps.
> 
> also i'm working on the requests, i promise !! just wanted to get this out xkdsjfaha
> 
> hopefully you don't think this is utter shit, ty :pensive:

_There are no beautiful surfaces without a terrible depth. -Friedrich Nietzsche._

He was always born different.

That, he always knew, always felt somewhere in his bones, weighing down on his self. Something that whispered in his mind, nagging at the corners of his consciousness, pulling away at his existence, his morality.

At the beginning, there was nothing to question. There was simply... existence, the feeling of soft ferns brushing by pale legs as he ran by and bare feet sinking into soft grass that twined around his ankles and whispered to him with the noises of chirping rattles. There was the droplets of water that fell down from above and sprinkled onto his hair, and the serene pools of water with creatures that squeaked softly and nudged his feet as they passed.

It was quiet, and lonely, but peaceful. He simply existed, lingering in the caves that were his home.

Sometimes, he'd call out to himself (for what, though, he didn't know), the sounds echoing in the space, alone.

A child wandering in the midst of wonders, unharmed and untouched, between moss-covered caves with berries that dangled from the ceiling to steep ravines filled to the brim with water. He'd move on from place to place, stumbling across damp rock looking for... what, he was not sure, but he knew enough to keep going, to keep to the caves to continue to survive.

And even though he moved places so often, even though he traversed the caves daily, he knew that this was home. The familiar dripping of water onto smooth rock and alternating rivers of water and fire that he skipped with ease, the pockets of strange smooth stone that tinkled under his feet and the long winding rivers in the deepest of caves.

This was home, and this was enough.

(Even though there had always been — _something,_ something that he was never sure of, that whispered in his mind and told him to kill them all. To slay them, because they were — _are?_ — dangerous and _you need to protect your home_ , and that is what they would take away. And sometimes, on the worst days, he'd grip his arms and curl up in a corner, and whisper to himself _no, no, no;_ a mantra. Because the squids and the axolotls that passed were friends that would never hurt him; because they were peaceful and chirped brightly in greeting when he passed, passive and playful, and they were not hostile.

They were not a threat.

He'd never listened, and he never will; this, he knows.

_Because he is a protector at heart, a protector of his home.)_

He's seen others of his kind, he's fairly sure. Others, the term somewhat vague and uncertain, but enough. Family, friends, lovers... their language had no words for these, and simply one that summed them together, unchanged. To them, they were one. To them, they had no difference.

To them, they were simply _other._

In the caves, there was other and there was danger and there was himself. In the caves, there was all there was.

Other and danger and himself, and home.

Between himself and the others were a mix of trusts and bonds that were both unshakeable and easy to break. Wardens were loyal, yes, to each other, only increased by their decreasing population. Loyal to themselves because they were protectors, and they all had one goal.

But in the end, they were more loyal to their home. _Always_ more loyal to their home.

No matter what.

No matter if it resulted in their death, no matter if they had to fight tooth and claw to keep it. They all knew; they would kill for their home. They would slaughter and destroy and sacrifice themselves if need be, because they were protectors, _guardians,_ and they protected their home.

(They rarely died anyways, if ever; humans and other creatures hardly ever ventured into their deep caves, and when they did, they were always alone, and nothing but easy kills. Simple.)

He had always been alone.

He had had a family at some point, maybe, something buried far away in a corner of his mind, unreachable. Something that floated tauntingly at the back of his mind, nagging at him while he just simply tries to _remember._ Something, anything.

He never could.

Could never recall anything but a lingering sense of warmth, of comfort, even after even the taunting voice had faded away. A gentle whisper and gentle hand brushing past his was all that remained for him of his past, now.

And even though something lingered in his chest, even though something pressed down on his bones from time to time, he found that he could not care all too much. You could not miss what you do not remember, after all, and his life was peaceful. There was nothing for him to question, to ponder. And he had enough to do, anyways.

He explored the caves, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he did so, passing by quiet caverns and dripping stalactites. Wandered through the lands, the ground under his feet changing from crumbling ground to soft moss and smooth stone. 

And most importantly, he _protected,_ protected because that was his duty. No matter what happened, this was what he would do until the end of his time, and what the others would do until the end of theirs.

Just because they existed by themselves, just because they rarely passed one another in the vast systems of caves that branched out again and again, never meant that they were alone in their mission, never meant that they had to uphold their mantle alone.

They were separated, solitary, wandering alone; but connected in their own way, their own rights.

He's not sure when it started, only knowing that the brief interactions he'd had with passing Wardens had ceased, halted to a stop. Friendly rumbles and protective murmurs had slowly changed into cold silence, falling away from outstretched fingertips.

For the first time in his admittedly short life, he felt empty.

A bit, it was only _a bit,_ he told himself. Something small that curled up in his chest, nothing significant, simple and trivial.

It was okay.

He was okay.

Time passed as he did, wandering by their cave systems and lingering by where he always met them. He was never sure of time in the caves; there was no need for it, and there was no changing of day and tone and degrees for him.

It wasn't like he could see it, anyways.

Sometimes their encounters came in the form of soft but heavy head pats, a hand on his shoulder; a deep rumble and friendly growls. There was never any need for him to meet them; he was self-sufficient, as all Wardens were. But it was nice to talk with some of his kind, and to know them. There was always something in him that wished for more interaction, but that feeling he always brushed to the side, deemed unimportant.

And yet, he missed them all the more when they disappeared.

Sometimes, he'd wonder where they had all gone, where they had vanished to. Would wonder what happened to the _other_ that were more than an other to him by now, wonder if they were alright. What had happened?

Common sense told him that of course they were okay, they were always okay. Their kind rarely took damage, got hurt; they were practically built for this. Built to be eternal guardians, built to forever protect their home.

And that was fine. He could do it by himself, he _would_ do it by himself, if that was what it took. It was a promise, an oath he had always had. A vow that was settled deep in his bones and ingrained in his soul from the beginning, a vow that lingered in his mind, forever and always.

Wardens had always been solitary creatures, anyways.

His ventures towards upwards became more frequent, his actions more curious as the days — weeks, months? Time was hard in the caves — passed. 

He was so much more familiar than he had been, starting out with cautious steps. A foot placed outside into something soft and slightly damp, like the rattling plants that chirped to him in the depths of his home but... different. Softer. It was difficult to describe, and at first hard to comprehend. The first time, he'd frozen for a minute before diving back into familiar territory.

And yet he’d come by again and again, straying further and further into the new lands with hands that brushed past every surface that passed, stance relaxing and whooping out in joy in spacious caverns. He’d dangle bare feet in cool pools of water, dragging fingers along quiet streams. Would sit there by the riverside and marvel in how much he loved this place, this whole new world. So vastly different from the large echoing caves with clusters of plants that seemed to especially like him and thin streams of water that he was used to, so different from the deep stone abysses that he traversed with ease and knew like the back of his hand.

And he knew, of course, that the depths were his home. Knew that they always had been, and always would be.

But all the same, he wondered. Wondered if it was okay to count these new lands as home as well. Home is a place that you love and find comfort in, after all, was it not?

Who was the unspoken rules to tell him that he was not allowed to have this as his home as well?

He wandered past expansive cave systems filled to the brim like lakes and lush worlds dotted with droplets of water as he roamed the wonders that filled his home, his new home.

It was peaceful, calm. He simply existed, exploring in awe of everything. He’d jump in collected puddles from the stalactites that hung from the ceilings; hold axolotls that squeaked softly in his hands. He’d dive into lakes in the caves filled halfway, waltz through large corridors of stone miles and miles below the surface. All with a sort of carefree ease, a careless dance.

(Something whispered in his mind that he shouldn't have; that he was neglecting his duty by leaving his home. That something whispered that he was betraying the caves. Whispered that there was no reason to leave, no reason to change.)

It was curious, to say the least; Wardens had always been dedicated to their deep stretches of the caves. They had always wandered through them in the quiet depths, protecting. It was simply… what they did.

It was never like the caverns were cramped anyways; there was more than enough space. _Maybe a little too much,_ he’d think to himself sometimes, back against a smooth stone wall.

Some days, he drifted from cave to cave, aimlessly but tranquil. Other days were harder, with him questioning everything he did at every available step.

Was he doing the right thing? The thing a guardian would do? What would the Wardens long gone into some even darker abyss than home do?

Sometimes he’d curl up into a corner and ask himself, pleading to someone higher than him, _am I making a mistake?_

For the most important thing, always, always, _always,_ was to defend home.

And under this, he struggled — struggles, still, because it is forever, for as long as he is still alive and here — under the heavy crown that the title _protector_ places on his head, trying to figure it out through muddled thoughts and conflicted ideals.

Little by little, his curious probing of the caverns expanded, from deep ravines littered with mobs that shrank back at his very presence to small hollows with a smooth stone that clinked and twinkled under his feet, from rivers and lakes of liquid fire to caverns crowded with stalactites and stalagmites.

Sometimes, he’d pick the berries that dangled from the ceiling to eat, even though, he rarely had to eat for some reason. But the taste of things interested him, drew him close. And despite he had hardly any need for them, well... if he took some of the berries every so often, what of it?

Every time, everything he did something outside of roaming the deep rifts that were his first home, something called to him. It sung to him with the voice of an angel, dangling glittering promises just outside of his reach. It told him to reach up, reach out, climb out of the caves and _explore._

It told him that he was allowed to meander out of the dark _(but it’s his home),_ allowed to… get out. Discover more. See more despite the fact that he could see, experience the wonders of the world. Of the _overworld._

_Don’t you want to live your life?_

Time passed; maybe days, maybe weeks; and he asked himself again and again, curiosity and uncertainty gnawing at the edge of his mind.

Was it worth it?

_Was it worth it?_

_I̶̼͈͋s̶̞̠͘ ̷̝̦͐͊̎i̴̗̮̔͋t̸͓̲̊̏ ̵̞̪̻̈́w̴͔̪̅ò̴̢̬r̴͕͝t̴͓̖͚̒̈́̋h̴͔͑͘̕ ̸̛̥̑ḯ̵̹̻̮̄ẗ̷̫́?̵̞͔͋̃ͅ_

Until humans made the decision for him.

It’d been the same, just as everything was; normal until it wasn’t anymore, normality shattered like a rock thrown at a thin layer of ice covering a lake, splashing into oblivion.

He had been simply ambling around in the cave that he had settled into for sleep before as usual, yawning, a bit tired. Stretched, then heard a noise and instantly jerked awake.

His sensors shivered a bit, and he bit at his lip, trying to be as quiet and sneaky as he could as he edged closer to where the noise had come from, listening as he did so.

_Quiet._

He stepped out from behind a stone wall, heart pounding in his ears and stance ready to fight and then—

Hands grabbed at his arms, gripping them. He turned his head to the — the faces, the hands, the unknown, _the danger,_ and tried to do anything, _anything_ that he could do to get out of their grip and fight back, _fight back because protectprotectPROTECT you have to kill them kill them you need to be safe, your home needs to be safe—_

His thoughts rose in a crescendo, a conductor bringing down his baton in an arc as the volume rose and they sung _together in harmony._ The sounds of the creatures’ yells beside him as he struggled to get out of of their grip sounded tinny, echoing, over the cacophony all yelling harshly in his head.

He flailed about wildly, managing to yank one of his arms away before the hands gripped his _ankles_ and retook their hold on his wrists, stronger this time, and _why where they doing this non o no no_ no, _stop it—_

His balance tilted, breathing hard as he kicked something in the face, maybe, that staggered back. He grinned to himself, wild and free and movements fluid as he fought to keep his two feet on the ground so that he could fight better before hands with — with something like _binds_ like the vines that hung from lush cave ceilings but so much more solid, so much more restricting.

They clamped down on his limbs, and fell to the damp stone ground, struggling to get out get out _get out you need to do better than this_ as voices above him chittered and mumbled something in what seemed like far too much caution, _did they think this was over this was not over,_ he would get away as fast as he could, he swore he would. He would get out and kill them and find home again and _how dare they, how dare they do this to him and nonoNONO you failed and—_

And then something hit his head, a dull but heavy blow, and he knew no more.

* * *

_You fucked up._

_You let them take you away._

**_Y̶͙̺̩̗͍̊̎̚o̸̧͇̾͋̾͌u̶̧̨̙͇̺̔͑̇̅̈ ̷̣̗̌̓͑̓f̸̛͙̤̥̬̖̭͑̅a̴̢͂̇ỉ̶̧̢̡͈̼̲̓͊̈͌̓l̷̠̙̏̇̎̆͊̆ͅe̷̬̩͕͔͙̎̆̇̓ͅd̸̗̹̼͓̘̎ ̸̻͛̈̋͋̓t̶̢̙̱̯̣̐̃̋̒o̵̺͘ ̸̠̻̙̹͋̈͂p̷̧̭̳͚̏͐͐r̶̯̝̳͕̮͑͋ó̵͉̣̲̄́̊͘͠t̶̖͓̭̤̐̀̒͛́͌ë̴̞̜͉́c̷̭̦̺̐̀̀͋̔͒ṫ̷̨̤̺̿̈́̅̈́̕͜ ̴̨̤̼͒y̶͈̎̈́̓̓̀͝o̸͇͑ũ̶̹̘͇̱̙͉̾͑̍ŗ̵̞̙́̈́ ̵̉̇͊̉͜ḧ̷̠̼̟͎͔̲͋̈́ơ̶̹̈́̍̇̕m̶͈̠̮͇̈́ḛ̷͋̑̕͝.̷̛̞̋́́̐_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minecraft people: the warden's cute and terrifying :D  
> me: .../sprints to my ao3 and starts writing down shit/
> 
> part two will probably come,,, tomorrow,,,,
> 
> thanks for reading :]


	2. part ii. white walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blasts six aggressively

He woke up, head pounding and the world seeming so so quiet, as if it was holding its breath. His sensors tried to pick up something, anything that could help him determine wherever he was as he turned his head to get a better pickup. Anything would be helpful, at this point.

Where he was now, he knew he was no longer in his caves. His caves were quiet and tranquil, yes, but… there were certain comforting sounds that always let him know that everything was okay. The quiet burbling of underground streams winding through caves and squeaks of axolotls; the steady dripping of water in vast underground caverns and lakes. The familiar chirping rattles that the sculks made, the twinkling under his feet as he moved that was almost like music.

Here, it was simply… quiet, eerily so, like a gaping void in front of him. Nothing moved, and the air felt… foreign to his touch.

He felt blind.

_What was going on?_

The time after that was a confusing whirl, following around blindly and trying to figure out what happened. What happened, what they’d done, where he was.

What was going on?

They led him with soft words laced with something deeper that told him that they were _doing something,_ but what, he was not sure.

What did they _want_ with him?

It started with a kind hand, leading him along smooth corridors with comforting touches. Gentle words in a language that he didn’t know and a grip so tight on his arm that it almost hurt, pacing back and forth in blank empty rooms.

It was silent, always silent but so so tense unlike the peaceful quiet that always settled over him in the caves. Here, it was like there was static buzzing in his ears, blank blank blank empty empty empty _blind blind blind._

His life now alternated between confusing chatters at him and everyone and nothing and deafening, unsettling silence, heart pounding in his ears.

_He never thought he would miss steady streams of sounds this much._

After a while, he was guided out more often, and they taught him their language. They taught him how the world worked; tales of greed and evil that the humans had and how they, _they_ were good.

When he pointed out that they didn’t seem all too good, either, considering the fact that they refused to let him walk free and that they studied him like an _object_ with his usual impulsiveness, they shoved him back into his room. His cell.

_What did they need him for?_

Their treatment got harsher since that, as if they wanted to _prove_ him right. Stone-cold words lashed out at him the few times they talked to him, laced with monotone commands from others. Kindness twisted into something darker, a snarling mouth; a mask, an _illusion,_ shattered.

They ‘forgot’ to give him food for… maybe four days, he wasn’t sure. It was a good thing that he hadn’t mentioned the fact that he rarely needed to eat, to them. But eating was something to do in the blank empty void of his cell, anyways.

He trailed fingers over smooth walls, bare feet sliding against the floor as he walked from end to end, mindlessly pacing. He yearned for the endless caves, for home, but all the same yearned for human contact.

_Human._

It was simply a new word that they’d taught him, but there was another meaning too that they’d completely skipped over, forgotten.

_Humane. Kind. Compassionate._

Human.

_I think, therefore I am._

Is he?

_To be._

_To be what?_

The days, months, _years?_ He’s not sure, he’s never sure; before there was no need for time and everything blended together anyways, and here things were irregular and mind-numbingly boring. Everything _mixed_ here, again and again and again.

Time passed in a whirl of black and white, his thoughts muddled and mind groggy as they led him through experiments, poking him and sticking sharp things into his arm. He shifted uncomfortably, but followed all the same.

Words are said that passed through his mind as he sat there, shoulders slightly tense but surrendered to everything. To the things they did without care, leaving him alone and nothing but tattered mess as they walked away.

He’s trapped, _boxed_ , and he hated it with everything in his body.

_They did so much worse, but he had never wanted to remember._

There were days when he wanted nothing but to forget, to fall, to not exist. Because everything was spiraling, turning into a mess that made him into just another body collapsed on cold cold stone as people stared at him, blank and expressionless as they jotted down notes. Looked and saw and _studied,_ and did _nothing_ as lightning coursed through his body and arms burned as he clutched at himself, screaming, _no, no, no_ in his head, a silent plea. Meaningless, as his consciousness started to slip away, once again.

_Please, please, don’t, please make it stop, pLEASE-_

It still hurt, he thought to himself as he floated through black oblivion. Phantom pains or otherwise, however, he didn’t know.

He could feel the child that he used to be slip away, and turn into something else, slowly and surely.

He’s falling.

He’d _fallen._

The day he’d slipped away from _them_ was nothing but quiet and eventful. It’d started the same; a test of how long he could survive underwater before he started getting hurt from it (just about the same as any person, he’d heard them mumble disappointedly) and then leaving him in a room again after a verbal bashing.

He sat there, alone and clutching at his arms and knees drawn up towards his chest on the metal table, water dripping from his soaked clothes. He shivered; chills crawling up his skin and the water dragging him down.

Dream sighed, getting to his feet and hesitated, biting his lip but setting his mouth in grim determination. A sense of finality, of _this is it, this is the day I get away_ settled in his bones, and he opened the door, tension written in every movement.

He took off sprinting down the hallways, trying to get to the entrance where footsteps always disappeared off to at the ends of the days, not caring about who saw and who was in his way. He needed to get out, _needed to,_ because he only had one chance to do this.

Normally he’d try to sneak away, but here, there would be no point in trying to hide. Most of the people here knew who he was, what he looked like. The light aqua fluffy ears that branched out clearly gave him away, as did the patches of dark aqua and black splashed across skin. The golden white bands circling his shoulders and melting into a lighter aqua blue and his human skin did nothing to help, either.

Screams and shouts echoed as he sprinted past, fast as he could, knowing, _this is his only chance._ He pushed away barricades and walls and—

Wind blew over his skin, and he marveled in it and the warmth shining down upon him before reminding himself that he had to _move,_ fast.

He ran.

_(Survival first.)_

Hands grabbed at him that he shook off, elbowing someone in the waist and kicking another at the knees, flailing and doing whatever he could with his free limbs to get out. As soon as he was free for even a second, he took off again, heart pounding in his ears.

For a second, he let himself breathe, pause for a second, and then-

“Got you,” a voice snarled in his ears and a hand gripped his shoulder, reminding Dream all too much of the first time he had been taking. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been expecting it this time, however; he had been more than prepared. He lashed out with his fists, and the human gave a grunt, falling to the ground.

The others circled him, albeit more warily now, he could tell. A tension filled the air, and he hesitated, before telling himself, _they would take you back the second they could. You need to do this._

He leapt into battle, and dodged and hit and kicked and _killed,_ and _god_ if it wasn’t so so exhilarating, thrill pumping through his body. It intoxicated him, ears buzzing and settling into his very soul an excitement, wanting _more more more._

His hands unclenched, and his almost wild grin dropped off his face.

_What did I just do?_

He took a heavy breath, staggering back.

_You needed to, they would have taken you otherwise. It’s kill or be killed, Dream._

He took a sharp breath, nails digging into his skin.

 _They were still_ lives! _They were still —_

He turned, and ran.

He dodged and weaved through trees, bare feet kicking piles of pine needles. He wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. He had to — _had to —_ survive, get out, get away.

When the sounds from behind him stopped completely, he let himself slow to a walk, heart pounding loudly, erratically. He let himself stop for a moment, just out… here.

He was _outside._

He was in the _overworld._

_He was free._

A gentle breeze caressed his skin, warmth on his face and the heat slowly drying his dripping clothes. He let himself live, exist without a fear of people coming into his cell all the time.

(He knew he was lying to himself; he knew that an underlying sense of paranoia would always stay after him after this. _Always.)_

He ignored it, and he let himself breathe. Let himself _laugh,_ the sound of pure delight and freedom as he raised his hands into the air and let wind run through his fingers.

Dream walked away, free.

He walked away, knowing that the laboratories were never a home.

He’d debated going back to the caves, staying awake under star-filled skies. Stayed awake, and wondered.

At the end, though, he’d decided that he wouldn’t. Not yet. The overworld called to him, and he was here anyways, so why not stay?

For just a bit. Just a little while, and then he would return to his home.

He made a mask, running his fingers over smooth porcelain and crafting it into something to hide the Warden part of him, slipping it over electric blue freckles splashed across the bridge of his nose. Wore long sleeved clothes, choosing simply a basic outfit to wear so that no one would ever suspect that he was blind.

And when he learned enchantments, he enchanted his mask to hide his ears away, and to muffle the flashes of darkness that came with him when he was stressed, or protective, or angry. They were nothing but dead giveaways, and would hardly be useful in the overworld, where he planned to stay.

_(For now.)_

At first, he wandered, just like the old days, when he was nothing but an untouched child in the caves. Wandered and… searched. For what, however, he didn’t know. He certainly did not need anything; he had his home, and that was enough.

_(But you left it all behind. You’ve tossed it away into the dust to see something new.)_

_Was he anything if he was not a protector?_

And he wandered, staying in towns some days, and sleeping in the wild, on treetops, the others. He didn’t mind.

As he traveled across the land, he picked up some information about the Wardens.

When he first heard, it was as if he was hit, drenched, a bucket of ice-cold tossed onto a shivering form, slamming into a stone wall.

_None._

The word echoed inside his mind, and he _froze._

There were none left.

He thanked them and quickly turned to leave, stomach uncomfortably churning and hands clenching and unclenching,

He was the only one, now.

_The last, lone protector._


End file.
